


Welcome

by wendymarlowe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29424657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymarlowe/pseuds/wendymarlowe
Summary: Sherlock is observant, John is friendly, and Greg feels loved.An optimistic little fic for MerindaB's birthday :-)
Relationships: Greg Lestrade & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 158





	Welcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janto321 (FaceofMer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/gifts).



In the spirit of his thoroughly crap day, Greg didn’t even get a chance to knock on the open door to 221B before Sherlock was yelling.

“John! We need tea!”

“Who’s _we?”_ John shouted back from upstairs. He skidded down the steps in stocking feet a moment later. “Oh! Hi, Greg. Case?”

Sherlock scoffed loudly, not even looking up from where he was doing… something… with test tubes on the kitchen table. “Obviously not. Go ahead and bring your bag up, Lestrade. It’s fine.”

“I… okay.” He hadn’t been sure enough of his reception to bring the small rucksack upstairs--if Mrs. Hudson had asked, which she didn’t, he’d planned to tell her the truth: it was his “go bag” from work. Which he brought along to Baker Street for… reasons. Greg retrieved it and set it inside the doorway, then stood around awkwardly until Sherlock waved him toward the couch.

“Have a seat and I’ll get this cleaned up,” he commanded. “John’s always on me about keeping the table clear for supper. Speaking of which: Indian or Thai?” Despite John also being in the small kitchen, putting the kettle on and washing three mugs, the two men maneuvered easily around each other. The mugs had been in the cupboard but Greg appreciated John’s diligence--Sherlock’s experiments usually had the potential to produce some truly frightening airborne particles. “Normally we do Indian on Fridays,” Sherlock added, “but I’m open to either one.”

John bumped Sherlock’s shoulder with his own. “You don’t eat, you berk,” he groused good-naturedly. “You just pick at whatever I order.”

“Still.”

“If you’re ordering anyway, yellow curry sounds good.” Greg sat and watched the odd dance as the oddly-matched flatmates bickered and tidied up. Normally John spent their bi-weekly pub nights whinging about how Sherlock barely even knew where the cleaning supplies _were_ , but right now Sherlock was cheerfully disinfecting and wiping down the table as if it were a regular thing. Soon it was sparkling and Sherlock’s chemistry apparatus had been stowed in a box under the sink.

“Not a case, then,” John said while they waited for the tea to steep. “Just feeling social tonight? We weren’t planning anything more than a James Bond film and maybe some David Attenborough--we take turns picking, if you didn't already get that from the choice of titles-- but I’m happy to have you join us.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sherlock said before Greg could answer. “He’s not here because he’s feeling social--quite the opposite. You call in the order tonight, John. I’ll be right back out after I change my sheets and empty out a drawer for Lestrade’s things. My bedroom is in a fairly decent state at the moment, so it shouldn’t be too alarming as long as you don’t open the bins under the bed.”

“What?” As usual, Sherlock seemed three steps ahead of everyone else in the conversation and didn’t seem to notice. “I mean, yes, I came over because today has been crap and I don’t want to see anyone else besides you two, but I also don’t mean to impose.”

Sherlock waved his objections away. “Nonsense. I rarely sleep in my bed anyway, and I don’t mind taking the sofa for few weeks.” He huffed, as if being in the same room and sharing the same discussion as two mere mortals was a terrible burden. “If you’d _look_ , John, you’d see that Lestrade brought his so-called ‘go bag’ along. He keeps it at the Yard for times when he can’t get home overnight and needs a change of clothes and a toothbrush, but usually he only replaces things piecemeal. The bag itself stays in his office. He brought it now, though, because he doesn’t want to go home tonight and was hoping to find a polite way to ask if he could stay here with us for a day or two. Was it just another fight, or are you two trying a separation again?”

As always, admiration of how quickly Sherlock could jump to the correct conclusion given nearly zero information warred with annoyance at his complete lack of tact. “It’s, err. We finally signed the papers,” Greg admitted. “Which did involve another fight this morning, but that’s nothing new. Part of me is… happy, I think? I didn’t realize how freeing it would feel, not having to worry about how and when to forgive each other. But mostly it hasn’t hit me yet that it’s really over. I spent all day expecting Liv to text me like usual, anger in the morning and apologies by the end of the afternoon. Wouldn’t be surprised if she and her yoga instructor boyfriend were fucking each other on our kitchen table right now, though, and I’ve got no interest in that drama. She picked out most of the furniture anyway--I don’t need to take much with me when I move out.” _Whenever that will be._ Perhaps running off to Sherlock and John’s flat instead of making it a quick and clean break was the cowardly thing to do but dammit, he deserved a bit of a rest before he had to face the music.

“I can hear you berating yourself from here,” Sherlock grumbled. “Stop it. I’m sure you and your soon-to-be ex will end up being all mature and responsible and trying to be _friends_ afterward, no matter how little she deserves it, so no point worrying about that now. And you’re not an imposition. John will be happy to cook for someone who notices what they eat, and I’ll be happy because your guilt over inviting yourself to the flat is likely to manifest itself in you tidying up and it will get John off my back about it.”

John, Greg noted, didn’t refute the statement.

“I…” Sherlock paused, thinking, which was as close to openly emotional as he ever got. Only deep, personal confidences slowed him down enough to need careful word choice. “I told John once that I don’t have friends,” he declared. “I have realized, over the last few years, how that statement wasn’t quite true. I value you, both of you, acutely. You’re an honorable man, Gregory Lestrade. And I’m humbled that we can consider each other friends.”

The first thought that went through Greg’s head was _Wow, that is the most serious thing I have ever heard him say._ The second was _Holy hell, he DOES know my name!_

“Ha! You _do_ know his name!” John cried triumphantly. “I keep trying to figure out whether you are truly that forgetful or whether you’re just taking the piss, but I’m never quite sure with you.” He cleared his throat. “And, um. What he said, about the friendship thing. Stay as long as you want, Greg. I hope you know you’re always welcome here at 221B.”

**Author's Note:**

> You've been a huge part of making this fandom welcoming for so many of us - we love you MerindaB!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Welcome](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428839) by [Podfixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Podfixx/pseuds/Podfixx)




End file.
